


Yes Sir

by DragonKid64



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Albino Dave Strider, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Dirk Strider and Dave's Bro Aren't the Same Person, Human Auto-Responder | Lil Hal, Human Hal, Pedophilia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Trans Dave Strider, albino striders, cal is still here... unfortunately, can someone teach me how to use the pesterchum skin, hating lil cal fanclub, it is very hard and im too scared to ask for help, pesterchum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25005388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonKid64/pseuds/DragonKid64
Summary: Dave, Dirk, and Hal do what they're told. If they don't, they'll be punished. Dave, the youngest, has it the worst.
Kudos: 18





	1. Hal: Worry and Lie

[Hal's point of view, July 15th, 1:46 AM]

Your headphones are blasting your twin's shitty SoundCloud raps as you scroll through the gay side of Tumblr. Your heavy eyelids droop down your face, but you know you can't fall asleep yet. Your bro is in that mood again. The kind of mood where he drags your sleeping corpse down the shag carpet and into his room, and you're afraid you'll never come out. The smell of his plush sex-toy infested room is enough to send shivers up and down your spine. You like posts you've already seen, as your twin brother's monotone voice makes your ears wish they weren't alive. After the 7th stolen post in a row, you click off Tumblr and onto Pesterchum. You and your brother share an account, so it gets a little confusing sometimes, but you can't be bothered to make up a username of your own. You decide to pester a naive thirteen year-old.

timaeusTestified [TT] started pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] at 1:54 AM

TT: Oh shit

TT: 2 am already

TT: You up Eggs??

GT: yes, im awake! do you expect me to sleep with the ominous messages your sending me!

TT: You're*

TT: Also what ominous messages?

GT: "whAt ominOUs mesSAGeS????????"

GT: you keep logging off pester chum with shit like "ill be back i just heard a scream" or "oh fuck hold on" and then you leave for the rest of the day!

TT: Do I really do that?

GT: yes!

GT: is your family really that bad? sheesh!

TT: Bro says I can't give the sweet deets,

TT: But,

TT: Not really.

TT: Dirk is just a whiny baby.

GT: ok good. so there's nothing to worry about?

TT: Nope, nothing.

GT: good.

GT: but, why did you message me?

TT: Finally we're getting to the part that **I** wanna talk about.

TT: Actually, I was just bored.

GT: booo!

GT: so im just your entertainment then!

TT: No, of course not! You mean a lot to me.

TT: But yeah

GT: oh thats rude hal! very rude.

TT: Yeah I know.

GT: actually im kind of glad you pestered me. you see i kind of needed to talk about something thats been concerning me for a while. so i think-

Your focus is almost completely on John's vent when a high-pitched screech fills your eardrums and drills into your brain. You hear a muffled voice shout "Fuck! Stop bleeding! It wasn't that bad!" And time seems to speed up. You feel dizzy as your body's senses run into overdrive. Shit shit shit. Are you gonna have to call the fucking cops? You look around the room for a weapon you can use. No guns, no swords, no knives in your room. You're fucked if he comes in here. 

Wait.

John!

John's still talking.

Fuck.

GT: these fucked up dreams are starting to scare me.

GT: any ideas?

TT: Oh my god

GT: yeah, i know. sorry for dumping this on you

TT: No not that

TT: I have to fucking go

GT: not again! you said i had nothing to worry about!

TT: You don't.

TT: Oh fuck hold on he's crying again

GT: what? who?

TT: Shit, I didn't mean to send that

GT: huh?!

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] at 2:24 AM

Bro drops your younger brother in front of you. He drops a note at your knees. _Take care of this,_ it says. You know he's trying to make eye contact with you.

"Yes sir..." You mumble, not daring to look up and risk exposing your neck to him. He shuts the door, and you scramble to grab your brother. You hear Bro's footsteps echo down the hallway. You lift your brother's shirt up, revealing a handful of scars, a torn binder, and a giant gash under his collarbone. He flinches as you remove the binder, exposing his chest, which is littered with small razor scratches. He tries to mumble an apology but you shush him as the blood flow slowly comes to a stop, and begins to dry and flake off. "Sh-shit, I-" you sputter, "Dave, oh my god."

"M'good-" he says quietly. You help him walk to the bathroom to bandage his wounds and listen to what your bro did this time.


	2. Dave: Don't do it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try so hard. You try to resist the urges. You've locked your door for the night, praying to whatever gods exist, that he doesn't unlock the door and find you when you're asleep.

[Dave's point of view, July 17th, 11:38 PM]

No, no, no, no, no.

No.

NO!

 _You can't fucking hurt yourself. You have to stop. Not two times in one day. He'll be so fucking mad when he finds out. You can't wear this hoodie forever. It's the middle of summer. You can't do this._ Your voice echoes in your mind as you stare down at your arms. You drew so much blood today. Even the thought of someone touching your arms scares the shit out of you. You need to control your flinches. 

Every time one of your brothers raises their arm, you brace yourself, ready to be struck. And every time, they apologize. You always just... nod. Nod at them. Telling them it's okay. You wish you had the strength to speak, and tell them. Tell them that it's not fucking okay. That you need help. You need someone to tell you what you want to hear.

What you _need_ to hear.

That it's okay if you don't feel okay. That it's natural for people to flinch. That it's normal for people to hate themselves for every little thing that they do wrong.

You scream for your brothers' help, yelling and crying. You tell them that you need help, that you're so fucking close to hurting yourself again. You shout and sob and holler and yelp, but no sound comes out. Of course you're fucking helpless. Unbelievable. You're a fucking pussy, with no more strength left in your body.

As your shoulders shake to stop the quiet sobs, your whole body trembles along with them. You can't fucking breathe. It's so hard to breathe. It's so... hard... to...

An idea crosses your mind. If you can't breathe... why not show your blood to some more oxygen? You pad over to your desk, your legs trembling. A pencil. It's perfect. You grab the small, sharp item and sit back down on your bed.

No. This is stupid. This is the exact thing that you didn't want to do. A shaky breath escapes your lungs as you adjust your grip on the pencil.

**_________________________**

Red drips down your paper white arms. You wince, but feel... lighter, somehow. Bro is going to hate you for this.


	3. Dave: Be on guard

[Dave's point of view, July 20th, 6:42 PM]

You wait in anticipation, for him to burst through the door and kick your ass. You wait and wait. Nothing comes, but you're still expecting the worst. The second you let your guard down, he'll know, and he'll tear down the door. You know he will. A shiver runs through your body. You hear the faint sound of footsteps. It's not him, it's just Dirk. You let out a quiet sigh, and you've gotta be honest, maybe it's a bit more of a sob than a sigh. You curse at yourself silently, for making a noise that might inform him of your location. But it's okay. 

I love you, he says, when he takes you to his room.

The scars are for ironic purposes, he says. They're funny. You told him that you don't get it. He calls you stupid for not understanding.

That's the reason there's no food in the fridge, he says. You'd expect it to be there. It keeps you on your toes. It's a joke, he says.

He says, he says, he says.

You hate to admit it, but you don't know what he sounds like. Every time you two "talked," he'd give you a note. He'd put them everywhere. Your door, the futon, the wall, it didn't matter. But sometimes, he'd hide them. He'd leave you a little paper, telling you that an important note was left somewhere in the house. And, stupidly, you searched. Every time. You would search for it. That always left you vulnerable. Open for attack, or... whatever he was in the mood for that day. The only-

You hear footsteps again.

You shake.

They're quiet and coordinated.

Then there's a quiet voice. It's Hal.

You let out a breath, making sure that it's silent.

The only times you ever hear Bro's voice are the huffs and grunts of a strife. They're usually from you, But when you catch him off guard you can hear him, just barely. You wish he'd talk to you. Just say a simple word, any word. But he never does, and he never will. 

You don't even hear him this time. He nearly breaks the doorknob, and you brace yourself....


End file.
